knives, fights and strawberry ice cream
by Meocaroba
Summary: Her current mission might be the most boring thing Mikan Sakura has ever had to deal with, but her daily encounters with the Black Cat most definitely are not. / NxM, Part 2 in the GA-crew!verse
1. knives, fights and strawberry ice cream

**knives, fights and strawberry ice cream**

* * *

 _AN: This work is dedicated to my lovely friend **Yili** , aka starlightrabbit on Tumblr. It's her birthday today so head over there and wish her a wonderful day, because she deserves it. As for this story, it will make more sense if you take the time to read part 1 of the HA-crew!verse first, but you don't have to. Enjoy! _

* * *

The first time Mikan Sakura spots the Black Cat, she hides behind a counter.

Now, to her defense, she is unarmed and in the middle of a long surveillance mission, but she still curses her reaction to hell and back when she realizes that she, a trained operative in a successful crew, is currently sitting on the floor of an ice cream parlor to avoid being seen by some hotshot guy. Wiping her hands on her waitress uniform, she gets up just in time to the Black Cat saunter into the parlor, wearing a smug grin on his handsome face.

When she says handsome, Mikan of course means "utterly average, not at all pretty" but her brain malfunctions sometimes. At least, Hotaru always says it does and since Hotaru is usually right, that must also be what's happening right now. Besides, even if she _does_ think the guy is handsome, that in no way changes the fact that he is dangerous and has probably killed people and might blow her operation and oh, is currently talking to her even though she has no idea what he's saying.

"Excuse me, what?," Mikan asks.

"Strawberry," the Black Cat answers. "I'd like some strawberry ice cream, unless of course you only have that on display as decoration and don't actually serve it."

"Oh, we serve it," she hurriedly says and scrambles for the ice cream scoop. "Sorry, did you want that to-go, or…?"

His lips curve into a smile that is entirely too handsome for a man of his profession. Entirely to harmless. Harmless is the word she is looking for. Exactly. Harmless.

"To-go would be perfect."

So she hands him his strawberry ice cream and he hands her the money, the tips of his fingers brushing her own as she takes the cash from him. And that is that: The Black Cat leaves, taking his ice cream and stupid grin with him, never to return.

Except he does, of course, return.

* * *

After three weeks on a mission to surveil a rich business man and his company across the street, Mikan finds herself growing bored. For one, nothing is happening. Sure, there are men in suits walking into the building and men in suits exiting the building. One thrilling late shift she even gets to see a pizza delivery guy arrive!

But there are no shady meetings with known members of criminal organisations, no crooked figures walking in and out, heck there aren't even hot extramarital affairs happening inside of highly expensive cars. Nothing but boring, everyday life.

"Do you think Reo could give me a different mission?," she complains to her best friend. Hotaru looks up from her peach flavored ice cream.

"Reo won't give you any missions ever again if you don't stop shouting," she hisses. "Seriously, Mikan. Keep your voice down."

"Or what?," Mikan exclaims, gesturing to the empty ice cream parlor behind them. "My non-existent customers will hear me? That's the worst thing, by the way," she slumps down onto a chair. "I can't even do this waitress thing right. Yesterday I gave a guy five scoops of ice cream for free because he promised to come back and pay me later. Guess what: He didn't!"

Hotaru swallows another spoonful of ice cream. "Shocking," she remarks drily. "Truly shocking."

Mikan rests her head on the table.

"I'm going through a crisis here, Hotaru," she murmurs. "A true crisis. What if I can never figure out Mr. Hokade's sinister secret by working in this ice cream parlor? What if Reo demotes me to a low level agent because I didn't follow the plan?"

"I guess then you'll have to look for a new best friend," Hotaru says, "Seeing as I only surround myself with level A operatives such as myself."

Mikan makes a sound that is half whine, half groan and Hotaru sighs. Patting her best friend's head with one hand, she finishes the ice cream with the other before getting up.

"Look, you'll figure out how to do this job," she says. "Where's your optimism?"

"It's in the trash can I'll have to live in once Reo throws me out of Z," Mikan says dejectedly. She watches as her best friend gathers her things to leave. When Hotaru reaches the exit, she turns around to shoot Mikan one last look.

"Stop whining," she says in a commanding tone. "Get to work."

Over the next few weeks, that's what Mikan tries to do. She spies on the office building using binoculars and perfects her ice cream scooping in the meantime. Sometimes, she finds her thoughts wandering to the Black Cat and his curious one-time visit to her ice cream parlor. Of course, those thoughts are entirely professional in nature - the thing she's wondering is whether or not he knows her identity and whether or not he will sabotage her work, not whether or not he has nice eyes. His eyes _never_ come up, not even once.

She's just about ready to banish the Black Cat from her mind when the he returns. He just show up out of the blue one day, leaning against the counter and winking at her.

"I'd like some-"

"Strawberry, I know," Mikan interrupts him. "And here you go, strawberry you get, one strawberry to-go, thank you, goodbye."

She half grabs, half yanks the money out of his outstretched hand and shoves his ice cream at him. The Black Cat raises one dark brow in amusement.

"Actually," he says. "I'm eating this one right here."

With that, he sits down comfortably on one of the counter chairs and starts to eat.

He does the same thing the day after, and the day after that, until she is pretty sure he's making ice cream eating at Mikan's part of his daily routine.

The first few times, his presence puts her on edge. Other members of her crew told her horror stories about the Black Cat, showed her his picture and whispered warnings into her ear. She can't help but fear him. So Mikan does what any sensible woman would do: She keeps a knife hidden next to the ice cream scoop, ready to stab him at any point. But nothing malicious ever happens - Well, nothing except his constant comments about the state of the ice cream parlor or the way she wears her hair or the size of her scoops. For a secret agent known for his aloofness, he truly doesn't shut up.

Mikan wants to tell herself that she is annoyed by his presence, but for some reason she isn't. Once her fear lessens, she finally finds the time to truly observe her newest customer. He's more than just a pretty face, that's for sure. Whenever he shows up, he does so with a newspaper, reading it front to back while he eats his ice cream. He always arrives at the exact same time, staying for thirty minutes before vanishing to god knows where. Some days, Mikan contemplates following him, but something inside her rebels at the thought of completely unravelling the mystery of the Black Cat.

Eventually, she has to admit she likes having him in the parlor. When she tells her best friend about that, Hotaru laughs.

"Aw, you like him," she drawls. "How cute."

Mikan puts down the lethal lipstick invention she was testing to glare at her friend.

"I do not," she clarifies. "I just think it's nice that he comes by every day. He's…"

"Sweet? Hot? Husband material?"

"Annoying," Mikan says forcefully. She ponders whether she should throw the lipstick at her Hotaru's head but decides against it. Who knows, the thing could blow up. "But he's good for business. You should see how many more customers show up just to longingly gaze at him. It's insane."

"Mikan, Mikan," Hotaru says, never once looking up from the invention she's tinkering with. "You almost sound...jealous."

This time, Mikan _does_ throw the lipstick, effectively ending all talk of the Black Cat. For a while, her enigmatic customer is a forbidden topic at the apartment she shares with her best friend. It stays that way for weeks - him showing up every day and her relishing his visits. In a way, her encounters with the Black Cat have become routine part of her mission. They are a constant, they are _normal_. At least that's what they feel like until the car blows up outside of the ice cream parlor.

* * *

It happens on a peaceful wednesday, around noon. The Black Cat has just left and Mikan is busy cleaning the counter. Technically, that is the job of the the guy she is working with, but he's far too busy making googly eyes at a dark haired girl who came in with her group of friends a few minutes earlier, so once again it's up to Mikan to save the ice cream from turning into a disgusting, dirty mess. She's cursing her coworkers name under her breath when the street outside is rocked by an explosion.

Her instincts kick in before her brain does, and she drops down to press herself against the floor. Peering out from behind the counter, Mikan tries to catch a glimpse of what is happening outside. There's fire on the street, and some sort of fight is happening. Seven men, no eight, all armed, all far too fast to be civilians. She narrows her eyes and pulls herself up, making sure to wear a placating smile on her lips as she rummages around to find her knife.

"Don't worry," Mikan calls out to the customers once she's found it. "I'm sure the commotion outside can be easily explained. If you'll excuse me, I'll go check."

Her co-worker, instead of trying to stop her from being killed by what could very well be a gang fight, practically jumps out of her way when Mikan walks past him to get to the door. She makes sure to roll her eyes at him before stepping out onto the street.

The situation outside is messy - literally. A trash can must have exploded when the car did, because there's garbage everywhere: On the sidewalk, on the windows of the ice cream parlor, hell even in the Black Cat's dark hair. Speaking of the Black Cat, he is holding his own well, given that the fight is seven against one. Still, no matter how good he is, there are too many guys swarming him from every angle.

It's a setup. The realization feels like a block of ice at the pit of Mikan's stomach. In her world of gangs and crews, there is one rule everyone knows: You chose, at the beginning of your career, whether you want to be a visible or an invisible agent.

Invisible agents such as Mikan specialize on jobs that require a discreet approach. Infiltration is her strength, and doing that is impossible when the police knows your face. But there are also those like the Black Cat - those who rely on brute force and fight their way in and out of every mission, those who are known and feared and most importantly, hated.

If you're a visible agent, you spent your life laying low. That means having a top secret hide-out, steering clear of the public and never, _ever_ , frequenting a certain place.

The Black Cat has broken the last rule many times over in the past few weeks, and although Mikan doesn't know why, she can't help but feel responsible. Nevertheless she hesitates to jump into the fray. This is how you go from a covert operative to a known one - By butting into another crew's business. But isn't that exactly why she took this job in the first place? To make other people's business _her_ business, to help them out when they needed her to?

The Black Cat finally spots her, and his face goes a little bit pale when he does.

"Leave!," he yells at her, fending off to attackers as he does. "Hear me waitress? Leave!"

She rolls her eyes at him.

"You don't get to give me orders outside of the ice cream parlor."

With that, Mikan grips her knife a little bit tighter and jumps to his defense. The Cat's red eyes widen in almost comical surprise, but he doesn't ask questions. Side by side and back to back, they finish off the attackers. When the last one falls, she grabs his hand (it's almost scorchingly hot, but not in a bad way) and, ignoring his protests, drags him away.

They stop running once the ice cream parlor is far behind them, once there is no more smoke in their noses and no police sirens in the air. They're in a small city park. It's a peaceful place: A couple of cherry trees provide shade and the grass is sprinkled with colorful flowers. Mikan lets herself fall down onto a bench, heaving a sigh of relief.

"That," she says. "Went better than expected."

The Black Cat is watching her from a couple of paces away, seemingly hesitant to join her on the bench.

"So you're clearly not a waitress, huh,?" he comments. Mikan pouts.

"Excuse you, I'm _absolutely_ a waitress. Do you have any idea how hard I had to practice to become one?"

"Alright, ok. You're not _just_ a waitress. Better?"

Mikan leans her head to the side, thinking about his words for a bit before nodding.

"Yup, that's better!"

He watches her for a few more moments, clearly torn, before shaking his head in a half exasperated, half fond manner. In two quick strides, he reaches the bench and sits down next to her.

"By the way," the Black Cat says, "You didn't save my life or anything. I was doing alright."

Mikan snorts.

"Sure you were, Mr. 'I'm bleeding and surrounded but totally OK'."

"That's not my name," the Black Cat comments.

"Well, what do you expect me to call you?," Mikan asks. "Mr. Cat? Black? Blackie? Kitty? Oh," she bumps his shoulder with hers. "Can I call you kitty?"

Her most regular customer shudders. "Please never, ever call me that again."

"Alright, alright," Mikan promises with a giggle. She leans back on her outstretched palms to watch the cherry blossoms, but the movement makes her wince in pain. The Black Cat sits up straight, gesturing for her hands.

"Hey, let me see that," he demands.

"It's fine-"

His touch startles Mikan. Gently holding her hand in his, he turns it around to look at her palm. There's a wound there, about three centimeters long, its jagged red edges cutting her skin into two. He traces it with his fingers.

"I'm afraid I don't have a handkerchief to romantically wrap around your injury," he says. "But to be honest, I'm starting to think you don't need me to take care of you."

Just for a second, the feeling of her hand in his freezes her mind and she can muster no reaction except an embarrassingly slow blink. Then she pulls her hand back as if burned and hides it in her skirt.

"You're right about that," she says, forcing a smile before changing the topic. "So, I guess you owe me one, right? That's great, actually."

"Wait, I owe you one?," the Black Cat asks. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Why, I blew my cover for you," Mikan explains. "That means you have to help me finish my own mission or I'll tell everyone about that one time the Black Cat needed a nameless operative to save his ass. Obviously."

His lips quirk into a smile. "Obviously," he repeats.

Filled with renewed energy, Mikan jumps up from the bench.

"We'll meet here tomorrow, 6am sharp. Don't be late, kitty!"

"It's Natsume, actually."

"What?"

"Natsume. That's my name."

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Mikan briefly wonders whether that truly is his name, whether he just gave her the most important piece of information an operative can give to someone. Then she decides it doesn't matter. Maybe what Natsume introduced himself as is just as important as the name he has on paper. She turns to go and he watches her leave with watchful red eyes.

"It's a shame you have to quit your job," he calls after her just as she's about to walk out of earshot. "I liked you in that maid outfit."

Mikan doesn't let him see it, but his words make her smile.

The very next morning, he joins her five minute past six. She's just about to complain about his tardiness, when he presses a pre-packaged popsicle into her now bandaged hand.

"I got it from the corner store," he offers up as an explanation. "It tastes like strawberries."

Once more, Mikan is too stunned for words. They sit side by side in silence, eating their popsicles as the sun comes up. She might lose her job because of her reckless actions, but Natsume's shoulder is warm against hers and the morning sun is making his eyes look like a wildfire.

(And just for that moment, she doesn't mind admitting that he's the most beautiful thing she's seen in years.)


	2. Chapter 2

**knives, fights and strawberry ice cream - pt. ii**

* * *

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Mikan finds herself in an argument with the Black Cat that might just be about more than just their respective jobs.

* * *

 _AN: Although this was originally meant to be a oneshot, ga-party's writing challenge and the prompt "ice cream parlor AU" made me want to add a second chapter. This is still not by any means a multi-chap story, but Natsume and Mikan's adventures in the GA-crew!verse are always fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy! Shoutout to **Vilchen** , who wondered whether I was ever going to continue this. Your comment helped motivate me to do so!_

* * *

There's fire surrounding Mikan.

Now, if this were only a metaphor, it would be a good thing - This is Mikan Sakura: An agent extraordinaire, who fights with such passion that the air around her seems to burn with the ferocity of it. Unfortunately, Mikan's current fighting style can best be described as 'one legged lioness that just got run over by a truck' and the fire is, well, actual fire.

She clutches her wounded leg and tries to make out shapes in the roaring flames.

"Black Cat?!," she screams. "Black Cat, where are you?"

There's no answer.

Her current mission seems simple enough on paper. After she blew her cover, not in small part due to the Black Cat himself, her gang began assigning her covert operations. This is a retrieval one: Break in, grab some documents, destroy a hard drive and get out. Apparently, Natsume's gang had gotten a similar job because she'd run into him just a few minutes after breaking into the steel and glass skyscraper.

They passed each other in the hallway and the carefully stoic expression she usually maintains during missions had given way to a smile. His face never changed but somewhere deep inside her, Mikan knew that he was happy to see her, too. Something had been born, between the Black Cat and her, during the time they spent together finishing the ice cream parlor job.

That something is new and precious and frightening and Hotaru Imai, her unmovable best friend, calls it "sexual tension". Mikan refuses to use that particular name but Natsume refuses to stop being a protagonist in her more R Rated dreams, so there's that.

In hindsight though, Mikan can't say she's happy she crossed paths with Natsume that particular night. He is a pyromaniac, the kind of guy who uses explosives for just about anything, and just as she was about to finish up her own mission, the building had been rocked by an enormous blast centered two storeys above her. She'd told herself to leave, to simply allow Natsume to do his job, but when scores of guards ran past her, her body acted on its own. In less than a minute she was at the site of the explosion, fighting off guards with practiced efficiency. One stabbed her leg, a sharp, cold sort of pain she barely reacted to and as the smoke grew thicker, Mikan dispatched them all, ducking and whirling and kicking until her instincts told her there was no one else left to fight.

Now she is alone in a flame-filled hallway, and there is still no sight of Natsume, the man she came to save. Still, she knows he's around, has seen guards she missed by an inch fall to an unseen opponent and flames part as a fighter moved through them with unimaginable ease. The Black Cat is here, that much is certain, but is he safe? She shakes her head, dispelling mental images of him choking to death on black smoke.

Although " _no casualties unless necessary_ " isn't a rule in her crew (not for lack of lobbying on her part), Mikan starts grabbing the guards she knocked unconscious, pulling them towards the building's staircase, where the smoke hasn't reached yet. It's arduous work and in her daze it takes her a few moments before she realizes that she isn't the only person pulling bodies to safety. The Black Cat is there, his dark clothes blending in with the smoke, and he's working alongside her, rescuer now instead of opponent.

Once they're done, a hand closes around her upper hand, squeezing tight before slipping down to grab her gloved hand.

"This way," Natsume says, more command than request, and with her lungs beginning to burn, Mikan allows him to pull her towards safety.

They slip out of the building into a back alley, where he lets go immediately and whirls to face her.

"What," Natsume says through gritted teeth, "was _that_?"

"That up there?," Mikan asks, leaning against a building wall to avoid putting any weight on her leg. "I have no idea. You were the one blowing up an entire floor and sicking the guards onto us."

" _Us_?," Natsume repeats. His voice is hard, reminiscent of when he told her to leave all those months ago, after getting into a fight outside the ice cream parlor. "I wasn't sicking the guards onto us because there is no _us_. I was executing a plan that was going to drive security personnel towards me, so that some of my crew members could finish their work downstairs. Besides, what if you'd gotten knocked out or -" He stops himself and for a few seconds there is tense silence between them. Then, fast approaching sirens jolt both of them out of their argument.

"This can wait," Natsume hisses with a quick glance towards her still bleeding leg. "I know a safe place close by. Come on."

For the second time that night, Mikan follows him without argument.

* * *

They go from exchanging blows with enemies to exchanging blows with each other.

She shouldn't have intervened. He should have signaled for her to stop. She should have left once she realized he was handling things. He should have told her he was planning to set off an explosion. She should have known he was going to blow something up. He should have -

It goes on like this for a while. Mikan is loathe to admit that the pain in her leg is making her head spin and she can't help but meet his anger with her own. She would like to tell herself that they're just two agents frustrated that someone messed with their operations, but it's more than that. After all, she knows herself well enough to realize that she would not have run upstairs to help a stranger or even a casual acquaintance. But it's difficult to admit her own clouded judgment with him making her feel like little more than a child.

Eventually, Mikan snaps.

"Look, I get it. I messed up your operation, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I just had to make sure..." She trails off.

If you've got nothing else, go with the truth, she thinks to herself before continuing. "There was fire everywhere. You could have been hurt, or worse. And I thought of losing you and it was...I was scared, because see even though I hate you, I really do, I also care about you, I...like you. Like _like_ you. If that makes sense. I mean, it makes no sense to me but it's...that's how it is."

Natsume's face stays carefully blank but Mikan sees a swirl of tumultuous emotion within the deep red of his eyes. Perhaps he'll understand, she thinks. Perhaps this attraction between them exists for him, too, perhaps this desire to protecthold _love_ is reciprocated. But Natsume's eyes narrow.

"What right do you have," he asks, with a deadly kind of softness, "to mess with my job just because you can't be bothered to control whatever _feelings_ you think you have? If you can't be a professional, fine, but at least screw up somewhere else. I don't need some fangirl tripping all over me."

She blinks, for a second too stunned to answer. He looks at her, coolly. Right then, with her wearing the torn remains of her mission garb, looking ragged and beaten, she feels like there is a giant chasm between them, threatening to swallow up whatever feelings she has. Or, according to him, _thinks_ she has.

"I'm sorry," Mikan says. "I truly am. I'm sorry I messed up your plan and potentially risked your entire op. I'm sorry for how I helped you. But I'm not going to apologize for helping in the first place or for caring. If that makes me a fangirl, then fine. Call me that."

She turns around, heading towards the exit. Natsume stays silent. Strange, how him not doing anything to stop her from leaving feels so monumentally, utterly wrong.

"Thank you for letting me hide here, Black Cat," Mikan says as the door falls shut behind her. "I'll stay out of your way from now on."

* * *

This is Mikan Sakura: A passionate girl with a luminous smile. The kind of person who scoops up bugs to keep people from stepping on them, who tears up whenever cherry tree blossoms dance in the wind like rose colored rain. A person for whom kindness is an instinct, not just a characteristic.

This is also Mikan Sakura: A trained operative, who knows how to kill, maim and survive in more ways than she can count. A woman who doesn't trust the lovely old lady in the apartment next to her, because every person can - and will be - a threat. A person who makes money stealing, observing and hurting others.

As she sits in front of the ice cream parlor where she first met Natsume, in a vague attempt to lead any potential pursuers away from her crew, Mikan realizes that around him, she let that first self overpower the second one. Kindness is as simple as breathing but what good did it do today? What form did it take? She wants to strangle herself for her foolishness and part of the reason why she hasn't gone back to the apartment she shares with Hotaru is that she knows her best friend would chew her out, and for good reason.

Mikan sighs and hugs her legs with her arms, trying to keep herself warm. Her wound still hurts but she's not worried about any lasting damage. She'll bounce back from this physical injury. The emotional one, though… Above her, the stars are struggling to pierce through the constant clouds above Tokyo. If she closes her eyes, she can dream them up one by one, a hundred, a thousand lights watching over her.

There it is again, the foolishness, the naivete. The stars aren't watching, they're just balls of gas. She isn't a girl sitting with her back to a wall, resting after a long day. She is an operative, exhausted from being chased by police sirens. But then, that's not quite right either, is it? Because of course, she is both.

And she wants to be both, too, wants to carry her experiences behind her teeth like weapons and her softness in her face like an embrace for anyone who might need it. Perhaps there are even crews where both is possible, but hers sure isn't one of them, never has been, never will be. But leaving Z isn't an option either, because this horrible, bloody job is the one thing she knows how to do. This is her life.

And this crew is where Hotaru is, her best friend. They are together, side by side in every story, and she won't change that just because meeting Natsume has made her want to indulge in her softer side even more than usual. Or, to be more truthful: He simply makes that softer side come out. It's entirely beyond her control. When he teases her, pulls her proverbial pigtails, brings her popsicles while fighting at her side, he makes her feel...He makes her feel the kind of feelings that make her head spin.

The kind of feelings that now make her heart hurt, too.

His words were harsh and they stung, undeniably. To hear that the object of her unwilling affection doesn't care about her isn't exactly uplifting. To hear all that after running from a burning building is decidedly one of the worst evenings Mikan has ever had.

 _Knives can be knives_ , her first teacher had once taught her. _Never more_. She feels the truth of it now, with every stab of pain in her leg and every pulse of sorrow in her heart.

Sun chases away the darkness eventually. Mikan thinks she must make a peculiar picture, a lone brunette in torn clothing sitting on the ground in front of the ice cream parlor. At this point, she's just inviting any crew who has a problem with Z to show up and start shooting. She tried her best to hide, scooted over until she was half covered by trash cans. Still, sometimes hiding isn't enough.

This time however, it seems to be, because the first person who recognizes her isn't an operative with a sniper rifle, isn't even her former coworker from the ice cream parlor.

The first person who steps behind the trash can, huddling down to sit next to her, is Natsume.

"So," he says levely. " _You_ messed that fight up. Just making that clear, the whole not trusting me to do my job thing? Bad."

Mikan nods mutely. Natsume sighs and scratches his dark head.

"But... _I_ messed that argument up."

The surprise must be evident on her face because Natsume turns away, seemingly...embarrassed?

"You're not the only person who can apologize when they're wrong," he says gruffly. "I shouldn't have called you a fangirl. I shouldn't have criticised the fact that you care, like that's not the greatest sign of strength a person in our business can show."

"I… accept your apology," Mikan says slowly. She turns to face him. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept any more than she has. Still looks handsome though. Damn.

Natsume gazes back and forth between her and the trash.

"So…," he says. "This your hideout? I mean, I'd heard about things at Z going downhill, but I didn't think you'd have to sleep next to the ice cream parlor and a bunch of trash cans."

"We had a wonderful place once," Mikan says wistfully. "A whole floor dedicated to snacks, couches and video game consoles. But alas, the economy hit the crime business hard. You know how it is."

"Maybe your gang just sucks," Natsume says. "Or maybe, and this is another guess of mine, you decided to stay away from your hideout because bringing the police there would cause more trouble than bringing them here."

Mikan blinks. He's right, which means he not only guessed where she would be, he also guessed why she'd be there in the first place.

"Am I really that much of an open book?," she ponders out loud.

The Black Cat shrugs. "Yeah, pretty much."

Mikan sighs, and with a glance at her, he continues: "But it's also easy for me to figure out where you might be, because…I've been thinking about you a lot these past weeks. Or months."

"Oh?," Mikan asks, confused. "What kind of thinking?"

"The kind of thinking where you imagine yourself kissing someone because to you, they're the most beautiful thing you've seen in years."

Mikan's brain is busy trying to do the emotional equivalent of quantum physics to understand whether or not Natsume is saying what she thinks he's saying. But before she has time to solve this particular equation, he continues, dispelling her rattling thoughts with his words.

"I'm not great at caring about things," Natsume says. "Which isn't to say that I don't care. It just means that whenever I do, I overthink things. Like, 'is this person who they say they are' or 'will they be a threat' or 'will they be in danger' or-"

He shakes his head.

"That kind of stuff. But with you, I knew from the start. Yes, you are who you say you are. No, you won't be a threat. And I used to think that you wouldn't be in danger either, that you'd just kick danger's ass. Tonight though…Tonight you risked yourself to help me and it was terrifying. Not just because it almost cost both of us our mission, simply because…"

For a while he pauses and Mikan looks at him, only looks at him, watches as the façade of the fighter in front of her is slowly stripped away.

"…Because it almost cost you me, right?," she completes his sentence. Natsume nods tightly. His eyes meet hers, red and fierce and unyielding.

"Subterfuge is familiar," Natsume says. "Lying is what we do. But I met you and I thought that you were like sunlight, the thing that dispels all shadows, and I wanted you to have the truth, all the truth I have to offer. You and your apron and those stupid ice cream cones – you have no idea how often I've dreamed up that image. Dreamed up _you_."

Natsume swallows. Mikan, for her part, doesn't dare breathe.

"I called your feelings imaginary not because I thought they were but because I feared they would be. But if they're not, if you meant them, than I couldn't just pretend that I'm not in love with you. Because it would have been a lie, and I told you, right? I wanted you to have the truth. So this is my truth: I'm in love with you. And I'm tired of pretending otherwise. "

The truth. Funny, how a word can be so small yet fill her with so much happiness.

She'd felt so ridiculous after telling him about her feelings, like the worst agent in the world. Mikan knows she is skilled, her aim with a knife is unparalleled, even Hotaru says so. But her heart has control over everything she does. People have shunned her for that, criticized her for her refusal, or inability, to change. After his previous reaction, she expected Natsume to share their opinion. She certainly didn't expect him to show her that he, too, lets his heart control his action from time to time.

Here he is, telling her that he shares her feelings, bearing his heart. And here she is, looking at him with no censure in her eyes.

Across the street, a runner passes them, her feet a pit-pat on the ground. Leaves rustle in the wind. The whole world is waking up and something within her, something she forcefully tried to bury just a few hours ago, is waking up along with it.

Mikan laughs. "You absolute idiot," she says, "I mean honestly, you _ass_."

It's Natsume's turn to look stunned. "I…-," he starts. She cuts him off.

"There I was, stammering something about liking you, sounding like a preschooler confessing to her crush and you just go and have a whole speech with big words and metaphors and grand gestures and ohmy _god_ , I'm not the fangirl." Her delight is so overpowering it makes her giggle. " _You're_ the fangirl."

And then she rushes forward, as if carried by the invisible wave of all she is feeling, and she's kissing him, his lips scorching under hers.

He makes a startled sound, somewhere between surprise and groan, and his hands come up to rest on her hips. Natsume pushes her back, until she's nestled snugly between him and the trash can behind her. She bites his bottom lip, playful yet demanding, and he opens his mouth to hers, lets her taste him, lets her breathe his breath.

Mikan reaches up, tangling her hands in his dark hair, feeling the hint of sweat at his temple. He smells like wildfire and sugar and they kiss again and again, his lips only ever leaving hers to brush against her cheek, her temple, and further down. When Natsume trails open-mouthed kisses down her neck, she can't help but jerk back, barely suppressing a gasp.

He stops immediately, pulling away.

"Are you…Do you want me to stop?"

His earnest question makes Mikan smile.

"Can you keep a secret?," she asks him teasingly. His hands on her hips tighten, pulling her closer until their foreheads are touching.

"I'll take your secrets to the grave," he promises.

She was joking but right then, there is no humor in his voice. Mikan lets her hand fall from his hair, trails it down his ear to rest it on the curve of his cheek. There's the softest hint of stubble under her fingertips, almost as though between fighting in the skyscraper and coming for her, he hasn't found the time to shave.

"It's my tactical weakness: I'm ticklish." Mikan tells him. "My enemies could use it against me."

Natsume cracks a grin.

"As if you'd let them. Though, speaking for myself, I know I'll certainly try."

"Probably," Mikan sighs, before admitting: "But then, _we're_ not enemies. Although we _are_ from rival crews," she reminds him.

"True," Natsume says, scooting back slightly so he can look at her more clearly. "But we don't have to be."

Mikan's eyes widen.

"Do you mean…"

"There's a spot with Nova waiting for you," Natsume says softly. "If you want it."

Nova. The crew Natsume built himself, the crew who operates under the sigil of a single star, much like the Academy, their sworn enemy. There isn't much information on them available, at least not in spaces Mikan has access to. Everyone knows the Black Cat is their leader. Everyone knows they're efficient, secretive and choosy about the jobs they accept. Looking at Natsume and knowing what she knows about the way he works, Mikan also understands that they're the tiniest bit flashy and, as strange as it is to use that word to describe a criminal organization, kind.

But Nova lacks one thing Mikan doesn't want to lose: Hotaru.

On top of that, there's doubt gnawing at her, a tiny voice whispering that he is asking her out of affection, not respect.

"I don't want you to feel like you need to allow me into your crew just because you…like me, just because I like you," Mikan says.

"I wanted to ask you before all this happened," Natsume says without hesitation. "I wanted to ask you when we first met, after you fought alongside me right in front of this ice cream parlor. And it wasn't because you were hot as hell, although, I will admit that you were. It was because you were damn good at what you do. Still are. A bit of a tactical klutz maybe but," he winks. "We all have our weaknesses. Aside from me of course."

She punches him in the shoulder for that.

"I have friends within Z," Mikan says. "I can't abandon them."

"I'm not asking you to," Natsume assures her. "All I'm saying is…" He nods towards the ice cream parlor. "This old place isn't going to open anytime soon, and I'm sort of hungry. We have an ice cream machine at our hideout. You have ice cream making skills. It's a match made in heaven."

"Ha!," Mikan says triumphantly. "I knew it! You only want me for my ice cream after all."

Natsume smirks. "Well," he drawls. "If we're using _ice cream_ as a clever metaphor for se-"

She punches him in the shoulder again, just for good measure, and he snickers.

So Natsume wants to take her to Nova's hideout. He wants to bring an outsider into his crew's space. They both know the amount of trust he's putting into her, and she's ridiculously touched that he's offering this to her even after the messed up operation of the night before. Of course, Nova's hideout is, in a way, enemy territory and if it were another agent offering to take her there, she would say no. Hell, she wouldn't say anything, she would simply leave.

But the person looking at her is no other agent, it's the Black Cat, it's _Natsume_.

So Mikan just smiles.

"Let's go," she says, and offers him her hand.


End file.
